Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
"You're right," I mutter, holding up my hands in surrender. "It's not my goddamn business. I just thought you might want the help. My bad."
Her face falls. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
"Tryst, I…"
"It's fine, Chloe. Really."
She bites her lip and then nods, glancing away from me.
For long moments, neither of us speaks. She picks up her fork like she's going to resume eating, but all she does is push food around her plate instead. Every so often, she peeks up at me, her gaze conflicted.
I wait her out, trying to figure her out, but she's just as much a puzzle now as she has been for the last eight fucking years. And despite it, she's always had every piece of me. There's never been anyone else, not for a single fucking second. I could never see past her long enough to see anyone else.
I doubt I ever will.
Eventually, she'll get married, have kids, and build a life. And I'll still be right fucking here, loving her from afar.
How the fuck am I supposed to survive watching her love someone else? I've been lucky so far. But my luck is going to run out eventually. And then what? I don't know. There isn't enough wine in the world to drown that question or the way it fucks with my head every day.
"I heard you today."
I blink at her, confused as hell. "What?"
"I heard you today," she says again, her voice firmer this time. "In the bathroom." Her fork hits the side of the plate before she quickly sets it aside and places her hands in her lap. "You said my name."
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Sheer panic surges through me. For a minute, my heart stops beating. I can't think of a single defense, especially not after she just sat here and told me about her prick of a boss. She probably thinks I'm no better than him. Actually, she probably thinks I'm worse. She's known me her entire life. I'm her friend, not her father's.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I finally say, my voice level. And yeah, I know I'm going straight to hell for lying. It's probably what I deserve at this point. But I saw the look of disgust on her face when she told me about her boss. I don't want her looking at me the same way.
"You're lying," she says, her voice shaking. "I heard you, Trystan. I know what you were doing. And you were saying my name."
"You heard wrong, Chloe."
Christ, I'm an asshole. I know I am.
"No, I didn't," she snaps, fire in her eyes. "I was outside the door. I heard you. I want to know what you were thinking about."
Jesus Christ.
I should stick to my story. I fucking know I should, but…
"Fine," I growl, knowing damn well I'm going to live long enough to regret this. "You want to know, princess?"
"Yes."
"I had you on your knees with my dick down your throat," I rasp, my hands clenched around the edge of the table. "You were choking on me while you rode your perfect fucking fingers."
Her mouth opens and then closes, no sound escaping.
I push myself to my feet, my cock so hard it hurts. I want to reach for her and make that fantasy a reality. I want her trembling and shaking beneath me. But…I fucking can't, not when she doesn't even know.
"It's not the first time," I mutter. "Doubt it'll be the last, either. It's always you, Chloe. Every fucking time I get myself off, it's you." I meet her wide-eyed gaze, holding it. "Is that what you needed to hear to feel justified in hating me? So you can lump me in with your boss?"
"I…"
"I'm not him, princess." I turn from the table, my heart pounding. "Maybe I'm worse. At least he's not basically your fucking family, right?"
"Trystan."
"Thanos, come."
I don't wait to hear what she has to say. I don't want to hear the condemnation from her perfect lips. I already know I deserve it, but I don't want to fucking hear it.
I stomp from the room with Thanos on my heels and my cock throbbing because even now, when she's probably horrified, I still want her. I'll never fucking stop.
Chapter Four
Chloe
By the time I clean up the kitchen, Trystan still hasn't come back from walking Thanos. And I'm honestly not sure if he even plans to come back at all. For all I know, he's on his way back to Santa Maria, cursing my name for forcing him to admit what he's clearly desperate to hide.
I stumble to the guest room around midnight, tipsy, frustrated, and horny. I want him to come back so we can talk, but I don't even know what to say. He shook my world on its foundation at the table tonight, and I don't know what it means.